Well said, madd scientist, well said.
It was my distinct pleasure to be stationed in sunny California while Wisconsin was deluged with snow, ice, and a rampaging, out-of-control wwhazz-and-bellygirl-with-a-sled-in-tow. Their desecration of cemeteries is notorious and the dead positively reel at the transgressions. Upon your own deaths, expect the welcome wagon to consist primarily of cold(er) shoulders and flaming bags of poo on your front afterlife stoop.
How was the Blue Moon last night? Was that guy working? The one who serves drinks? He’s terrific.
I must confess: Cal, I was in San Francisco on Saturday night, but declined to inquire about your whereabouts. Why? Because you live in a city (and a part of that city in particular) that is openly hostile to visitors. Yes, yes San Francisco, I’m driving a car. I know that it’s anathema to all you hold dear and all, but I didn’t relish the thought of driving in a circle for upwards of 45 minutes so I could get a spot of tea and some crumpet crumbs before rocketing away. Our alternative: cab from hotel to Cal, Flipper’s burger, cab back to hotel, pay another $8 per hour for the luxury of keeping my car at said hotel. All in all, a headache inducing plan. And who knows? Maybe we would do all that and Cal would be face down in a book on Lemon Torts at the Law Library, or busy buying German tchotchkes at his favoritest German Tchotchke Store. It was a difficult decision to make, but we skipped directly to Step 2: descend on Winter’s Bar in Pacifica and watch the Packers game with GMX. We drank goddamned motherfucking the most delicious sangria on god’s green earth. I was wild-eyed; delirious with taste excitement even before my prawns with white-wine garlic sauce appeared at the table. IT WAS GOOD~!
Madd, are you gonna be stopping over in SFO for any length of time this week? Maybe we could 3 or 4 twenty ounce beers. HOLLLARIT.